Rising Swords
by Hisa-Ai
Summary: "So what's a bloke like you doing in a place like this, then?" Merlin asked after a moment, all amusement and curiosity, which, okay, Arthur didn't think was entirely misplaced—this was a gay bar, after all…


**So I think I got the idea for this from tumblr about a million years ago—maybe from, like, an AU list or something?—but it's been so long that I don't remember anymore. Anyway: modern day AU. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. I don't own Merlin or Arthur or the gay bar they meet in—I own nothing and it's upsetting sometimes, really, but you play through the pain.

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_Rising Swords_

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The next time Gwaine said, "I've got a great idea for how to spend the night," Arthur was going to sock him hard enough to knock him out and ensure Arthur spent the night in front of the telly and not at some bar called "Rising Swords" being hit on for the seventh time that night by a bloke who just couldn't seem to take a hint.

Because it really _was_ ridiculous. He was never in his life going to hit on a woman who looked so disinterested in things ever again—not now that he knew what it was like to be badgered relentlessly by men who couldn't seem to wrap their heads around the words "sod off." Nope, Arthur Pendragon was a changed man for this experience and, if he wasn't so pissed off at Gwaine, he might have thanked him for opening his eyes as such.

But then he remembered that Gwaine had ditched him not twenty minutes after they got there and left him to fend for himself, left him to the mercy of men who obviously couldn't spot a straight guy when he was literally staring them right in the face. And he remembered how much he hated his so-called _friend_ at the moment and thanking him really was the last thing he was sure to ever do.

Just as Arthur was thinking about dumping his scotch down his own shirt—_or_ Carl's, the guy who was currently trying to pick him up, whichever came first—a dark-haired _angel_ came up behind _Carl_ and grinned at Arthur as though they were old friends.

"There you are, mate; been looking all over for you!" He clasped a hand to Arthur's shoulder, gazed into his eyes meaningfully, then he turned to Carl, almost apologetic as he shrugged, "Sorry, gonna have to steal him from you; we were supposed to spend the night getting drunk and calling his ex- filthy names—bad break-up." He explained, still apologetic.

Carl nodded in understanding, said that he needed to say no more, and bought them both a round of whatever they were drinking—scotch for Arthur, whiskey for the angel—and watched them walk off to a booth together, his eyes lingering on Arthur for what felt like forever.

"Thank you for that, uhm," Arthur breathed, sighing as he settled into a cushioned seat, not even chancing a glance in the direction of _Carl _and choosing, instead, to focus on the man sitting across the booth from him, as though it was really such a terrible thing to have to do.

"Merlin. And you are—?" Merlin prompted, knocking back a sip of his whiskey.

"Arthur." He said, giving Merlin his complete attention, taking in every detail of his savior for the evening. His eyes were an unnatural shade of blue, his ears stuck out, he had the cheekbones of some sort of _God_, and he had just saved Arthur from twenty more minutes of "I work as a pilot; I could get you into the mile-high club for _free, _if you want._" _

Fucking _Carl_.

As far as Arthur was concerned, Merlin was his new hero.

"Thank you, Merlin. For saving me from all that." He waved his hand in the air, relief written in his movements, because he had nothing against gay people—nothing at _all_—but being hit on for the majority of the night by people he had no interest in… It had been _exhausting_, to say the least.

"Ah, no problem." Merlin waved him off. "You looked pretty miserable over there; I just couldn't _bear_ to see you suffer anymore."

"It _was_ pretty terrible." Arthur admitted, washing down his smile with a sip of scotch before going off and relaying some of the highlights of the night, some of the gems that had been used on him over the course of the evening, chuckling at the absolute _cheesiness_ of some of them, Merlin shaking his head with a grin on his face the whole time through.

Merlin nodded appreciatively once Arthur finished with his tales, his eyes trailing over Arthur in a way that _should_ have made him uncomfortable, but instead made him relax into his seat. There was something about those eyes of his, Arthur realized, that made him feel at ease. Or perhaps it was the scotch…

"So what's a bloke like you doing in a place like this, then?" Merlin asked after a moment, all amusement and curiosity, which, okay, Arthur didn't think was entirely misplaced—this _was _a gay bar, after all…

"A buddy of mine dragged me down here and then disappeared off with some git. I should have left, but the scotch is actually pretty good, so." He shrugged, looking down to his drink as he gave it a little shake to make his point. "What about you?"

Merlin shrugged back. "Barkeep's my oldest mate in the world; he gives me the best whiskey at half the price. Plus, well, it's not exactly the worst place in the world to spend a Friday night."

Arthur nodded, took another drink of his scotch and glanced around. _Carl_ seemed to be gone, it might have been safe for him to finish his drink and head off. He didn't quite want to leave Merlin knowing that he might never see him again, but he'd already inconvenienced him enough as it was. And who knew, he might have been trying to get laid that night; he could hardly pick someone up while he was babysitting Arthur.

"I should probably let you get back to your night." He said, a sour tone in his voice as he made to stand up with his drink.

Merlin shook his head, grabbed Arthur's wrist gingerly, his long fingers cool and burning against Arthur's skin.

"Or… you could _stay_." His said, his tone shy and inviting. "I _did_ just save your life and everything, I think you could grace me with the pleasure of your company for a while longer." He grinned, the disastrous attempt at flirting charming, in the very least, and refreshing from all the other attempts made on him through-out the night.

"I'm not gay, you know." Arthur said after a beat, relaxing back into the booth, relieved that Merlin wanted his company, despite whatever other sort of conflicting things he was feeling at the moment.

Merlin raised an eyebrow at him. "Neither am I." He stated simply enough, a sort of look on his face as he took another sip of his drink, leaving it at that.

So, later on, after they'd spent the entire evening laughing and drinking in their booth until Merlin's friend William told them they needed to get the hell out for the night, and they wound up a kissing, tangled mess in Arthur's bed…

Who the hell was to say _what_ Arthur was anymore?

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End file.
